"I can look at the knot in a piece of wood until it frightens me."
A stroll round the grounds of a local church
There is nothing like a strong tree. They have always fascinated my eye; the lines, the grain, the knots. That strange way that trees like to grow with negative space peeping through branches. I love trees most when they are living and growing The men in my family have always dabbled in carpentry, dollhouses, bookcases and such. I grew up around piles of wood shavings in the workshop and trees that were allowed to grow far into the sky.
I still have dreams about the trees at the bottom of my childhood home, the same dream I had from when I was very small. I would take off from the back door and try to fly over the tops of the trees but would always fall into the branches until, at 22, I finally made it over the tree tops and flew across a beautiful river, landing in a gentle glade where some kind of fairy folk had a tea party waiting for me.
Ah yes. This is the stuff of dreams.